


A Fruit Platter of Unintended Consequences

by yvesdot



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Sci-Fi, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 17:23:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15393681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yvesdot/pseuds/yvesdot
Summary: When Annet’s mother steps out for the week, Annet takes the chance to socialize with the family’s housebot, Percique. Percique, having been warned, is well-prepared to argue her way out of being seen as a human, but Annet won’t give up that easily.





	A Fruit Platter of Unintended Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> _[read on[Wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/607589897-a-fruit-platter-of-unintended-consequences) or [Medium](https://medium.com/@yvesdot/a-fruit-platter-of-unintended-consequences-3d5ef1c3db5).]_
> 
> Fixed the formatting here on AO3! Emoji don't show up-- noted. Changed to copy/paste symbols, and you can see the originals on Wattpad or Medium.

Annet was replacing the tip in her stylus when Percique entered and slipped the plate of fruit onto the table by the door. Percique’s hands moved slowly, keeping the rim of the plate steady. She said something.  Annet pulled out one headphone; chimes spilled into the air. 

 

"Your dinner," Percique repeated, pointing to the fruit.

 

She was the same general size as Annet-- slightly shorter, slightly wider. The company made all sorts of different robots; her form had likely been chosen at random. Still: humanoid, soft-skinned, and with a curve to her upper lip that looked more inherited than created. She was technically Annet's mother's robot, and she tended to keep out of Annet's way except to provide food and occasionally clean her room when Annet was out. Outside of that, to Annet, she did not have much purpose.

 

Fortunately, Annet's mother was out for the week, and Annet wasn't thinking about robotic purposes.

 

"Percique," she said, and Percique did a little bow. "No, don't do that." Percique straightened, shifting slightly. Annet caught the shift, and considered it-- that there could have been no pause, that it would have in fact made  _ more  _ sense to not pause and to simply obey at once. She decided her theory was correct. "I want you to call me Annet while my mother is gone."

 

"Your mother requested..." Percique pulled the beginning of a postcard from her apron, and Annet shook her head.

 

"My mother isn't here. This is ridiculous. Do what you want."

 

"I can't--"

 

"Yes, you can."

 

"Your mother said you were very troubled," Percique said, and there was an extended pause. Percique's face didn't change, but her hands trembled.

 

"I am," Annet said. "In exactly the way she thinks."

 

Percique stood, stone-faced, in the entrance to the room. She looked very small, surrounded by the white-walled minimalism Annet's parents had shaved out long before Annet had gone to and come back from university. It had been expanded recently; Annet's mother had been going on about something to do with a 'crass amount of space' in a child's room. Percique, by contrast, looked like a candy in a wrapper: small, round, in her bright green dress with a bright white apron. Something about the company and how they wanted their products to look. Annet thought it made her look like a doll, like one of the old blonde girly dolls her mother kept in boxes in the garage.

 

"Your mother warned me," Percique said, and that was all. She took an empty plate from the little white table. "Thank you." 

 

And she left without asking permission, which Annet decided she liked. 

 

**

 

Despite a good deal of wandering throughout the house over the next few days, Annet found Percique avoiding her; food would appear and disappear wherever and whenever Annet wanted it to, but Percique herself stayed adamantly absent. 

 

So Annet wrote a note. She took the top paper of a pad her mother kept on the kitchen counter, something with brightly colored edges and a little symbol at the top, and she used a red pen she found in a drawer.

 

❀

 

_ I've been doing some research-- is it true everything works exactly the same as for humans? I know you eat, so I assume you go to the bathroom, and I also assume you sleep-- but everything works? Why not just cut out the unnecessary systems if they wanted to build a housebot? _

 

_ \--Annet _

 

In another day, she had a response. It was tucked under a plate of grapes, and written on stationery Annet didn’t recognize.

 

↼✿⇀

 

_ The intention of the company was to create very specifically an android, so as not to disrupt the environment as much as an obviously non-humanoid machine. Yes, everything is exactly the same; the function is merely to create a human with a designated purpose. It is true that some systems are never used, but they're all functional. _

 

_ \--Percique _

 

❀

 

_ I haven't seen you in a while. I hope you're okay. _

 

_ Wouldn't you say you're human, then? _

 

_ \--Annet _

 

↼✿⇀

 

_ I was made artificially, and I have an assigned purpose. I would (and do) say that I am an android. _

 

_ \--Percique _

 

❀

 

_ That won't work on me. I believe in God, remember? Maybe we're all created. _

 

_ \--Annet _

 

↼✿⇀

 

_ A man made by God and an android made by man are very different things. _

 

_ \--Percique _

 

❀

 

_ I don't disagree. But I also don't agree with the sentiment that that means an android can't be human. We've made great strides in technology recently, Percique. _

 

_ \--Annet _

 

↼✿⇀

 

_ Please eat the persimmons. They're fresh, and your mother worries about how little you eat. _

 

_ \--Percique _

 

❀

 

_ I’ll drop it, then-- but you're not as clever as you think you are. My mother hasn't noticed anything I’ve done in the last five years.  _ You're  _ worrying about me, aren't you? _

 

_ \--Annet _

 

↼✿⇀

 

_ My apologies. _

 

_ \--Percique _

 

❀

 

_ Don't apologize. Or if you do, do it in person. _

 

_ \--Annet _

 

She left the note inside the fruit bowl and took a persimmon out of it, by request. There were always slices of different fruits on the counter when Annet woke up now, though she noticed none of them were ever oranges. She wondered if and how Percique knew she hated oranges.

 

The next day Annet was working on a design when she heard soft steps enter the room behind her. Her headphones were long silent, and she removed them, placing both on the table next to her tablet before swiveling in her seat to look at Percique.

 

"My apologies," Percique repeated, giving a deep, slightly exaggerated curtsy. She smiled happily and placed her hands in her lap, waiting.

 

"You told a joke," Annet pointed out. “Or something like it.”

 

"Yes," Percique replied. "I know what sarcasm is, too."

 

"You're so difficult to handle," Annet said. Percique opened her mouth. "Don't apologize, and your bow is crooked." She stood and neared Percique slowly, giving her time to move. Percique watched her carefully.

 

"You're allowed to not let me, you know," Annet murmured. 

 

"I know.”

 

Annet reached out gently, one hand touching Percique’s shoulder, as if to keep her still. She undid the small bow at Percique's neck, hiding over the soft pink of today's candy-colored dress, and laced it around again, listening to the soft sound of the fabric winding. Percique was very warm, and Annet could see the movement in her neck as she swallowed; Percique's right hand twitched once at her side. Annet traced the bow's path, measuring, and laced it-- one knot, then two loops, then in and a tug and a gentle adjustment at the edges as her finger brushed against Percique's skin. 

 

"It's been a long time since I cared what my mother thought about me, Percique."

 

"It's been a long time since I've seen someone take so long with a bow," Percique responded, almost as smoothly. "You think you're clever, too, Annet."

 

"I am," Annet said. She took hold of one loop in the bow and tugged slightly; Percique leaned forward with a small jolt. Annet held her there for a moment, examining her warm grey eyes and the little dark bun in her hair; her soft skin, barely a shade lighter than Annet's russet tone. She watched Percique control her face; keep it smooth as sea glass. Then she let go. "I'm sorry, too."

 

"If I had wanted to leave," Percique said softly, "you couldn't have stopped me."

 

Annet knew that, too. Knew that under the skin there was a delicate lacing of synthetic muscle over wire, that the company had given Percique strength both for her daily tasks and for theoretical self-defense. They warned about it on the packaging;  _ Please treat your new android with care. _ Percique had never used her strength for anything more than slicing meat, but Annet knew she could. In some ways, Annet had expected her to; had expected to leave Percique alone. To become alone again, herself.

 

"I'll make my decision tomorrow," Percique said, and left. 

 

Annet put her headphones back in and played music as loud as she could.

 

**

 

Percique didn't introduce herself before arriving the next day, but Annet hadn't wanted her to, anyhow. Today Percique's dress was butter yellow; it brightened the room, coloring the white walls a faded daffodil color in the light.

 

"You have no idea," Percique said, "how uncomfortable you make me. Every time you're near."

 

Annet swallowed. She felt her face heat; Percique's hands lay still in her lap.

 

"We have purposes," Percique says. "We were made to do our specific tasks. You couldn't ask me to garden, or to build furniture. I know how to do those things-- I wouldn't mind doing them, but--" She paused. Her hand twitched towards her neck. "I'm not meant to. The system would tell me not to." She traced a finger across the top of Annet's bedside table, nearing her. "They install specific shields against certain things. We're not meant to replace human interaction. Or to be taken advantage of." Annet's hands stilled in her lap. "But the shields are very constant. I have no way to turn them off." Percique's gaze softened, looking at Annet. "It's very painful to be kept from all the things I'd like to do."

 

"I understand," Annet said. Percique shook her head, slowly.

 

"No," she said, "you don't. It's not how you're wired." She smiled gently, and knelt before Annet, looking up at her.  _ "'That's not what I'm made for.' _ That's what I'm supposed to say to your advances."

 

"You don't have to be what you were made for," Annet said.

 

"I know," Percique said, and she kissed Annet.

 

Annet slid her hands up past Percique's jaw into her hair; she took out the pin holding her bun up and wound her fingers into Percique's curls. Percique shifted against Annet, pushing the smooth lace strap at her shoulder down just an inch; Annet grinned under Percique's lips and broke away to undo the bow at her back.

 

"My mother is going to kill us if she finds out," Annet said, shaking her head. The apron fell to the floor; Percique drew Annet's hands back to the buttons of her dress, and Annet undid those, too. "I hope you're happy."

 

"I am," Percique said, letting Annet pull the top of the dress off her. In another moment she kissed her again.

  
  



End file.
